


The world may be harsh but we're still warm

by Some_Blue



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Bullying, Chaotic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders is a Sweetheart, Deceit | Janus Sanders is a Sweetheart, Don't ask me what time period they're in just know it's the past, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up Together, I don't know how tags work, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, It's mentioned in the background, Kinda, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Physical Disability, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, it's mild but there, like a tiny bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:28:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24671617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Blue/pseuds/Some_Blue
Summary: Just a small, soft existential thing I wrote at like midnight each night.
Relationships: Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders
Comments: 9
Kudos: 72





	The world may be harsh but we're still warm

The woods feels smooth under his touch, warm where he'd held it. It always seemed to hold a certain kind of warmth now, never went truly cold. 

His thumb runs over rough and takes shavings with it where just before his knife had been. Where soon smooth would be again, just another ridge, another memory.

_“Hey, you!” Janus stops and looks around, searching for the source of the voice. He fully expects one of the others to just make fun of him again, throw something, maybe._

_“No, up here”_

_His eyes follow the command? Wish? and he's met with the sight of boy, had to be around his age, dangling head first from the straw roof of the farm. Janus remembers feeling uncomfortable with just how loosely his legs were slung around the wooden beam jutting out. What if he fell?_

_“Do you need anything?” Janus asks. They'd blame him. That's the what if._

_He seems to contemplate for a moment, “Maybe. Why do you look so sad?”_

_“I'm not sad.”_

_“But you look sad.”_

_“No, I don't. This is just my normal face.”_

_“Doesn't that just mean you're sad a lot?”_

_Janus can't suppress an annoyed groan at the absolutely shit-eating grin the other wears. What god had he angered this time that he has to put up with this?_

_“Were you sent to bother me specifically or am I just that unlucky?”_

_The boys smile drops for a moment and Janus feels a sting of regret. Then he gestures towards his scars and that sentiment gets buried before it can fully form. Of course this is about the scars. What else would it be._

_The boy dangles and his smile seems just a bit more forced than before, “Well pretty much everyone else says you're the unluckiest lad around...or to be around. Cursed and all that fancy stuff.”_

_Nothing Janus didn't know already. Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt._

_“But-”_

_Janus interrupts him. He doesn't need to hear the rest, “Then I'm sure you also know to stay away.” he snaps._

_“Technically yes, but-”_

_“Then we're done here.” Janus turns briskly and walks away. He doesn't stop at the 'hey, wait a minute' called after him. He isn't hurrying, his leg doesn't hurt at the unusual pace and he definitely isn't fleeing. He **isn't.**_

_'Cursed and all that fancy stuff'_

_His cheeks aren't wet._

He shakes his head at the memory, careful not to wake he man on his shoulder. It doesn't feel negative anymore, not with how things had gone.

Hair tickles his neck and he smiles. Maybe he was even fond of it.

His mind drifts for a moment before returning to the warm wood in his hold. It never quite went cold now.

It makes sense to him, in a way. The staff had been his for so long after all... maybe after all this time it just held a piece of his soul, a piece of his heart, or whatever other fabrics made them, well, them. It doesn't feel his to contemplate, but it makes sense to him, even if it's not logical. He still remembers when got it.

_Janus' 14th birthday had just passed and it'd been lonelier than he'd have liked to admit. Not that he expected anything else. There was no one to celebrate with after all and it's not like he'd told anyone around the farm when it was._

_Janus doubted they would have cared either way... he was just the cursed sheep boy after all._

_Hell, they didn't even know his name. Not that anyone but roof boy, or Remus, as he'd come to know him, had ever asked._

_Still, laying in the hay between his sheep, only the shift of light in the stables providing a vague sense of time, he'd still felt disappointed. It was dumb, but he couldn't really help it. And well, when the time came for him to say his own birthday wishes, tensing a every shuffle and noise in fear he'd been caught... he'd felt downright pathetic. But that was fine. He didn't need birthdays. They're overrated either way._

_It's **fine**._

_But at that moment Janus isn't thinking about birthdays, or the lack of them. He's too busy herding the sheep back to the stables for the night. A storm had been brewing the entire day, a nasty one too, and his sheep shouldn't be out for it._

_It'd be easier if his leg wasn't giving him so much trouble... and it's not like he was looking forwards to a comfortable night either.  
“Hey! Hey, scarry, don't ignore me!” Janus can basically hear the pout in Remus' voice, but doesn't turn to look at him, recounting the herd and making sure everyone was safe instead._

_“pleaaaaseee!”_

_“I don't know, maybe I'll give you my attention if you stop calling me that.” He'd gotten used to those sort of jabs over the last year and he knew, theoretically, that he didn't mean any harm by them. That didn't stop them from hurting._

_“But I still don't know your name!”_

_Janus turns around to glare at him, “At his rate you're not going to.”_

_“Oh...”he seems to have a realisation then, “Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...”_

_“It's fine,” Janus waves him off, “Just stop it.”_

_Remus sits dumbfounded on his wall for a moment longer before speaking up again, the same enthusiasm as always coating the words. Janus would almost call it endearing._

_“Either way... I have something for you!”_

_“...What do you mean?”_

_He groans, making a big show out of it. Enough for Janus to know he isn't being serious. “Just come over here.”_

_He decides to comply for once and just hope it wouldn't be some mean spirited joke. Though... he doubts it with how excited he looks. Remus had never been cruel to him, after all, at least not intentionally. Janus tries to hide his limp as he joins him and pretends he didn't see him staring.  
Remus never mentioned it and Janus is thankful for that._

_Remus reaches behind himself, wobbling dangerously for a moment, as Janus rushes forward out to hold him just in case of him falling, but then Remus is up right again, holding a staff under his nose”wha-?”_

_“For you!”_

_Janus eyes it suspiciously and takes a step back to look at it properly. It's all dark, smooth wood, simple and sturdy in a way that's almost elegant. He likes it. He likes it a lot, but he doesn't want or need Remus' pity._

_“...Why?”_

_Remus shoves it into his hand, “A shepherd needs a staff, silly! A proper one!” he gestures towards the wood and his grin looses it's usual pep, “except if you don't like it...”  
Janus' fingers tighten around the staff and he pulls it to his body almost protectively “No! I do! I just...” he didn't get nice things, “thank you.” _

_And just like that the sad tone is gone again, Remus doing a happy little bounce that reminds him of one of his lambs. It's cute._

_Janus ignores that thought._

_“It's no bother.” Remus glances at his bad leg when Janus tries to lean onto the staff as subtly as he can and Janus knows._

_But Remus still doesn't mention it and... maybe he doesn't mind._

_“... It's Janus.”_

_“Huh?”_

_“My name.”_

_He's silent for a moment and Janus grapples with the fear of having made a mistake telling him. Remus hums speaking it out loud, almost as if tasting it for a few, painfully long, seconds._

_“It's lovely. I like it... but why tell now?” he cocks his head and Janus almost gets flustered, cheeks tingeing with just the lightest bit of warmth. But it was a good feeling, although strange to see the other so subdued for once._

_“No reason. Don't make a bit deal out of it.” he speaks, just a bit to hasty._

_Remus laughs and stands, balancing on the wall “Course, I wouldn't dare.” the cheeky grin says something else entirely, “and Janus?”_

_“yeah?”_

_“I know I'm late but...happy birthday.”_

_Janus stares at him, out of his depth, but the smile he offers is genuine, though before he can utter something, anything -if his thanks or questions he isn't sure- Remus is already vanishing around the corner._

_The staff in his hands feels warm, almost as much as his cheeks._

_Maybe he doesn't mind him knowing._

_Maybe._

_He grips the staff tighter._

His thumb swipes fresh shavings and he feels at peace. Mismatched eyes separate from the staff in his lap, catching the reflection of the fire for a moment before drifting to the clouds. The wind had been sharp all day, cutting through the heavy fabric of his cloak with ease; the air had smelled of rain, tasted of it. It was one of the things he'd come to recognise. 

_“They hurt you.”_

_He grabs his shoulders and Janus flinches out of his touch. Remus? Why is he here?_

_He turns his head away. Remus had already seen most there was to see._

_“No. I'm fine.”_

_He touches his cheek and it's so, so gentle. His hands aren't soft by any stretch, rough and calloused from farm work, but they're tender and… they're not comfort with Remus tilting his head to peek._

_Was he trying to gloat at his pain?_

_“Don't. Touch. Me.” He slaps the hand away._

_“Janus...”_

_Why was he here so **fast**?_

_“Don't say my name like that!”_

_Remus doesn't try to reach out again “I-”_

_Did he **watch?**_

_“Why do you even care?! How dare you come waltzing in like I'm not just the cursed town bastard?! What is your plan?! If this is some joke for you and the others you can stop now! I don't need you to pretend! I don't need your gifts and compliments! I'm done! I'm DONE OKAY! WHATEVER IT IS, YOU DID IT! CONGRATULATIONS! I DON'T WANT YOUR PITY! I DON'T WANT YOU TO PRETEND YOU CARE! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?! WHAT DO YOU WANT?!”_

_Remus just stares, having taken a step back and eyes wide and there's so much hurt there -and is that fear- and this is wrong, wrong, wrongwrongwrong-_

_“I just... I'm just trying to be your friend.”_

_He sounds like he might cry and Janus can't breathe. Friend. He ruined everything again. **Friend**. And he doesn't deserve a **friend** and Remus wasn't lying cause he'd **seen** him lie and he **can't breathe.** _

_“I-” he's silent for a moment, grasping for indifference without success, “Then stop.”_

_He doesn't look at Remus' face as he walks past, fast, running, **fleeing**. _

_His leg hurts for the rest of the week._

But the world had seemed to mellow out this time, the wind a bit less harsh, the clouds a bit more fluffy. It always did. That's one of the few certainties in life, isn't it? The earth may rage and cry but in the end the wind will caress instead of bite; the sky will paint a golden-pink apology and the clouds will look like his sheep again, fluffy and white. Some days he wondered if they were just as soft.

And where a storm apologizes in colours Janus does in warmth and rain and shame, so, so much shame. And where storms come back Janus learned to be golden hues and fluffy clouds instead. He'd forgiven him and... maybe he'd forgiven himself, too.

And maybe that's enough.

But his thumb swipes smooth, well loved wood and he's content with the knowledge he'll never truly know. It's a bittersweet kind of peace he'd made here, with hair tickling his neck and a dog that isn't his sleeping close; it's the kind of peace born out of the known, out of sheep bleating a few feet away, the others resting by his side. It's the same kind of peace a fish might feel knowing it'd never see how far the land reaches, having only known the sea. The longing throb of “what if “ muted and dull.

_“Why do you do that?”_

_“Do what?”_

_He lets himself drop out of the tree to settle next to Janus in the grass. His back hits the ground with a soft thump. Remus takes a moment to stretch out and Janus can't help but stare._

_He'd grown tall over the years, tan from hours in the sun and strong too. They were almost 17 now and years of farm work had left their marks, in more way than one. Janus still remembers how weirdly proud he'd been about some of those scars._

_He can't quite force himself to look away, cheeks tinted with a gentle shade of red. That had been happening more and more recently, although he couldn't tell why. It's not like Remus had changed much._

_He clears his throat, trying to gain a moment to bring his thoughts back on track, “the... the climbing, you know? I don't think I've ever actually seen you touch the ground,” he jests, “ not that I mind... but why?”_

_Janus watches as his face falls and brow creases and feels his own do the same. Remus doesn't try to cover it up and he almost feels glad, but worry outweighs that feeling._

_“... Promise you won't laugh?”_

_“Promise.”_

_It's silent for a few breaths before he admits hesitantly “I'm scared.”_

_Janus shuffles onto his side, facing Remus completely, “Scared? Of what?”_

_“You know how..” he hums thoughtfully, “you know how the world feels so.. so... heavy..? sometimes..?” Their eyes meet and Janus has too look away due to the sheer emotion in them._

_...And Janus does know. The way his stomach drops at steps behind him, hurled words, the splinters in his hands and burning on his face. He thinks about all that and yes, maybe he knows.  
But when he tries for words they refuse and he's once again glad that Remus doesn't need words to take what is meant._

_“Sometimes when... when it feels like that I... I get scared that if I come down the ground will swallow me, you know? Like if I touch it it will open up into a giant maw and then-” he gestures wildly for a moment before settling on a biting motion, “then it's gonna swallow me whole! or- or bite my legs off! And if I don't bleed out then I'll- I'll never run again and never be free and- and-”_

_His eyes seem almost the size of the moon, and the genuine fear in them hurts Janus more than any burns ever could, as the other talks himself up into hysterics._

_Janus' hand rests on a rough, calloused one and Remus looks at him, just looks, before taking a shaky breath. He gives him as long as he needs until he feels ready to speak again._

_“I just... it feels away from that, up there. It feels like everything is planned and I- I can't help it... but I can hide, you know? I can hide.”_

_His hand draws a small pattern on Remus' and his lips twitch into a small smile._

_“I don't want to come down yet, that's all.”_

_This time he manages to hold his gaze, thinking about what's been said. He knows he would later still, with too many emotions to sort through right now, but there was still one question nagging at him._

_“Then... why come down for me?”_

_“huh?”_

_“You don't come down, but you do when we meet. You know you don't have to, right? So, why?”_

_“You're too handsome to get eaten, so I know I'm safe.” he deadpans, his normal grin making it's return._

_Janus smacks his arm, “Oh shut up, you know that's not what I meant.” It doesn't save him from his blush. God. He really had to stop hat one. There wasn't even reason to. It's not like Remus was a pretty lady of some kind._

_But said man's expression only softens as his hand gives Janus' a light squeeze, and the blush remains firmly upon his cheeks._

_“ I just... I know I don't need to hide with you here. You feel... you feel safe.”_

Janus hadn't understood back then and he thinks maybe it was better he didn't. 

And he thinks that maybe it's good not to know sometimes.

And some days he thinks it might be foolish to feel that way, because he could know. Because he was no fish and could know, learn just how far the world's reaches are and where it ends. And some days he's afraid. Afraid that one day he might wake up in his grave and have to ask himself what he had accomplished, what he had done to deserve his place in life. Afraid that he wouldn't know an answer.

But right now his side is warm and the air smells of spring and his sheep and the fire and him. And sometimes, when the world feels cold and dark and harsh he is _terrified_ , but right now he isn't. And he thinks that maybe, someday, when his hair had grown grey and his bones brittle he could look into mismatched, _half-souled_ , eyes and when the question came he'd have an answer.

That he would be able to point at his life and say, “Maybe I haven't found the edges of the world or the answer to life, and maybe, if there is a god out there waiting for me, I haven't found him either. Maybe I haven't done any of that... but I've kept my sheep safe and was there to watch their young grow. And maybe I wasn't a teacher or a preacher, but when the world called me a curse and cast me out I did not grow cruel and when one of my sheep's end grew close I made it be quick and without pain.”

_“Hey, Janus?”_

_“Yeah?”_

_He tries to pretend to not already have been staring when the other spoke, enamoured with the way he looked in the evening light. He knows it inappropriate and some nights the guilt becomes almost too much to bear, but still, he always finds himself return to his silent admirations._

_“Do you believe there's a god?”_

_The question catches him more then off guard, but he gives it his thought nonetheless, “I believe I am supposed to say yes, no?”_

_“You know I don't care much for shoulds.”_

_Janus looks up at the sky, watching the few clouds pass by. One of his sheep bleats a little way off, “Then no... I don't think I do.”_

_His eyes find Remus' when he looks back “Why do you ask?”_

_The other shrugs, “Suppose I've just been thinking,” he let's out a snort and it sounds just a tad too forced, “Don't think the old man would like me very much.”_

_“What were you thinking that makes you say that?” his head tilts lightly in question._

_Remus looks at him, long and hard, searching for something Janus is not sure he finds. Had Remus been someone else Janus doesn't think he could have held it._

_The other slouches a little, something vulnerable entering his frame. Janus feels a strong desire to hold him._

_“If you...should you think it disgusting..” he rips out a few tufts of grass, “do you promise you won't tell anyone?”_

_It strikes him odd, his brow creasing, but Remus had never betrayed his trust and neither would Janus, “I promise.”_

_It's silent for what feels like an eternity, as his friend directs his eyes back to the ground. Janus waits patiently, giving him the time he needs and when he does speak again, it's a whisper he has to strain to hear, “If I... if I kissed you, what would you do?”_

_Janus' lips part only to close again, no words finding their way out. It was one of those things he hadn't dared think about and lied he didn't want to. And Remus is right, perhaps it would be proper to think it disgusting, but neither of them had ever been quite proper... and neither his racing heart nor the warmth, the tender kind he saved for moonlit nights, spoke of disgust._

_Remus still does not look at him and Janus desperately wishes he would._

_“I... I don't think I'd know until you'd tried.”_

_That does make him look at him, disbelief, a hesitant kind of hope, “Would you want me to? Hypothetically?”_

_“I think I would... Hypothetically.”_

_And Remus glances behind Janus before he touches him, as if scared someone would see, even though the town was just a far away blur. But when he does he cups his cheek, the scarred one that had turned an ugly pinkish-white that Remus had never seemed to mind, and Janus can't help but lean into his hand. And before he kisses him he pauses to give him a chance to run, and when Janus doesn't he looks relived in a way that almost hurts._

_And when he kisses him it's chaste and clumsy in the way that first kisses are, the way a lamb first learning to walk is awkward, but holding onto him Janus finds he does not mind. And it tastes of the bread they'd shared earlier and Remus' lips are chapped and rough in the way everything about him is and perhaps it's nothing special, but it's soft and warm and **theirs** , and that is enough for Janus to never want to stop kissing him._

_But they have to pull away sometime, foreheads resting against one another and Remus lets out a tiny laugh that just makes him feel warmer._

_“And?” he asks as if he already knows the answer. Maybe he does._

_“I think I''d want to kiss you again.”_

_And Janus does just that._

And if that would not be enough he'd point again and continue, “Perhaps I have not lived my life like their God would want, because I've loved a boy and I loved him still when we became men. And I've loved a boy who was wild, laughed too loud, made jokes too dirty and never seemed to touch the ground except when I was there. I've loved him because his smile outshone the sun, his eyes were freedom and so was his kiss. And I've loved him because he did not mind the leaves in his hair or the mud on his clothes or the shame on his name when he stayed with me despite all the rumours and warnings. I may not have done great things but I loved him and he loved me. I wiped his tears when the world grew too heavy and I've held him and warmed his bed on nights that were too cold to bear. So no, maybe my accomplishments were small and insignificant, but I pet fluffy dogs and laughed and cried and danced barefoot in the rain and I loved that it was my life, even if it was insignificant. I didn't do great things but I didn't waste away chasing happiness I couldn't have... and I loved. If that means damnation maybe I don't want to know what salvation is.” 

And maybe, when all was said Janus would be able to look at brittle bones and let them decay as they had lived. 

_“Maybe we could run away.” it's a hushed whisper in the night as his love glances yet again at the locked door. A silent fear someone might open it still and look upon their quiet, stolen moments, when everyone else slept and no one would notice his absence in the stables. It was a shared one._

_“Run to where?” fingertips caress along his back lazily, drawing patters._

_“I don't know... somewhere better.”_

_He looks up at him from where he'd rested against his chest and they both know what he really means. Somewhere where they wouldn't have to hide._

_“I don't think there is a place like that, dear...”_

_Remus sighs mournfully and settles back down, “I know...”_

_Janus just holds him for a while, not sure what words could make it better. He had a feeling Remus understood him either way._

_“Maybe we don't have to run.. build a house a way off and let the townspeople talk. And then it's just us and the sheep.”_

_He laughs softly and Janus feels warm, “You and your sheep.”_

_“They're my children you know I can't leave them behind!” he says in mock-offence._

_“I know, I know,” he hides his face in the nape of Janus' neck and presses a tender kiss to his skin, his stubble tickling lightly, “but I think I'd like that.”_

_“You would?”_

_“Yeah..” he nods, “just us... and the sheep.”_

_“We could try, you know... and if it doesn't work out we still have each other.”_

_“I'll see what I can do. You have to be careful with your leg,” he leans up, resting on his elbow as the other hand cards through Janus' hair lightly, before pulling him into a kiss just as gentle. “I love you.”_

_Janus presses a kiss to his cheek, just as sweet “i love you, too. And I can still help!”_

_They bicker quietly among themselves and he thinks that maybe, if all they'd have were stolen moments and candlelight promises, they'd be okay too._

But he wasn't there yet and all he could know for now were maybes. Maybe one day he would say something else, think something else and that would be okay too.  
Nonetheless it was a nice thought, not to regret. But for now all he could do was keep the words close to his chest and hope that maybe, someday, he would be able to say them.

And as the sky shifts from it's golden-pink to orange-red he pulls his lover close and keeps him safe from the cold. And when they settle down for the night, with his sheep close and a dog that isn't his, he thinks that, maybe, he could be content with this. With his love and with living how life would take them... and he can let sleep take him with a smile. 

And next to him in the grass rests his staff with a small, freshly carved heart in the wood. And it never does quite grow cold, no matter how biting the chill, for after all this time it might not only hold a piece of his soul, but also of the person who gave it.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written forever and this is completely self-indulgent but I tried. Also English isn't my first language so y e e t feel free to point out mistakes! :D


End file.
